


to seek, to find, to collide

by yourgirlislovely



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Attempted Murder, Blood, Child Murder (mention), F/M, Gen, Gin N Tonic, Gore, Non-Linear Narrative, Toxic Relationship, horror?, the author regrets some things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:01:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26923273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourgirlislovely/pseuds/yourgirlislovely
Summary: Their game goes something like this:Ginny disappears. To a far universe, to a far away time, but never quite far enough.And Tom, being the immortal he is thanks to her, follows.To her disdain, they meet.To his delight, the chaos begins.And in between, the gap between them closes. Sometimes.Repeat.
Relationships: Tom Riddle/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 35
Kudos: 50





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello hello! 
> 
> Well this is something I've been working on for a few weeks. This is part 1 of 2 and I hope to have part 2 in (hopefully) by the end of next week.

* * *

Disgust creeps on her face the moment he appears in front of her.

It is expected of course.

And Tom, of course, is delighted. Always, with every encounter. 

"Ginerva." 

Her eyebrows furrow, her jaw clenches. He's memorized it by now, her absolute abhorrence of him.

And as the crowd of people cut in between and bump into them with some muttering obscenities about "blocking the way", the two of them did not bother to even look away from one another. 

And so, it begins again.

* * *

  
"I'm surprised this is the first time you're attempting to kill me as a baby. "

Ginny stills at the sound of his voice.

"Why not? A small price to pay to stop the inevitable horrors you'd bring." 

She stares into the small makeshift wooden cradle as she answers him. 

It is home to a pale creature bundled in a worn-out thin blanket. The baby is smaller than the others in the nursery, who are all under a deep sleep along with the rest of the orphanage. Only this one is wide awake, dark eyes staring, studying in fascination at the woman intent on smothering him. 

  
  


The much-older Tom can't help but smile as he stands at the entrance, a bystander to his own murder.

Ginny is many things brave and bold, but only a fool could miss the thread of cunningness that intertwines with even the most noble parts of her. 

"Whatever it takes to stop me. How _honorable_."

Her hands slowly make their way to the baby's neck.

_Just a bit of pressure should do the trick,_ she thinks. 

Not a sound escapes from either the adult Tom or his younger form, though both sets of eyes never leave Ginny.

And it's enough, just enough to make her hands tremble. This is her chance. 

And it's a moment's bit of hesitation before her hands wrap around the creature and disapparates, leaving Tom alone in the nursery of his old orphanage.

A raspy laugh escapes him as their game, now well into the thousandth round, has now taken a new twist. 

The same players, the same chase but never the same journey.

Not with her.

* * *

It isn't to say Ginny's prior attempts to kill him are unsuccessful.

If anything, he looks forward to the times when all she has is rage and comes charging at him, with so much of heart and sincerity.

It is pure _exhilaration_.

And as the life drains out of him for the 30th time –well, he's proud mostly. Of her, of him, of their fate, of what the mere existence of their own souls does to the universe. 

Delight can't help but creep into him during those final moments as his memory stores away another life, another death -- another destructive odyssey. Another failure to end this cycle that binds them. 

And by the looks of Ginny's face, she knows it too.

* * *

The first time, as it always seems to be in any given case, is always the most violent. 

Of course, neither expects this reunion. 

Him, back in the body of a nearing-17 again after the pain of the supposed last piece of his soul gives away under Potter's counter curse. The pierce of green light cuts through his skin and bones, tearing through whatever is still human within him.

…Then to only gasp, as his lungs greedily cling to the damp, cold air surrounding him. 

The rest of him slowly gels together like pieces of a puzzle, with his insides painfully grinding and colliding against each other. 

As if trying to remember where they used to go.

But nothing prepares him for what he is about to see as the orbs pull back deeper into the sockets to connect inside his head; his vision is still obscured but can make out a figure moving towards him. 

Impulse ushers him to pull at his side for his wand, ready to kill and–

"Avada Kedavra!"

The bright green blinds him as pain surges through as he's thrown against the wall, the crack of his newly-formed skull against stone. The gush of warm blood oozes to his neck and to his shoulders, the stickiness of it makes him still. 

His eyes focus for a moment as he makes out the vague shapes of stone down a long path, the figure moving closer with the long swish of red hair.

The chamber. The girl. But even more than that–

"Impossible" is the quiet whisper that escapes her mouth, before she lets out a snarl.

_He is still alive._

_"Avada Kedavra!"_

His body is pushed further against jagged stone.

The green returns. Pain pierces and slashes through his skin, blood gushing from all of him. His throat lets out an agonizing scream at the same time as the girl, the chamber an endless echo of their bloody encounter. 

He falls to the floor, the shrill of bone breaking in his leg and cutting through flesh reaches his ear before he feels it. 

_He'll kill her. He'll make her pay, her family pay and–_

She's standing over him now, taking in her handiwork. Her hands tightens over her bloodied knuckles and she's distracted, yelling about how he won't like any other despicable creature. The rest of him is in shambles but his hand moves to her wand. His chance is slim, but he's ready to do some damage of his own.

_He won't let her go._

Something shines out of him. Out of her too.

Soon, she collapses on him, screeching. Her skin breaks, flesh and blood out just like his own.

Exactly like his own. 

An invisible force hammers through her skull, just like his.

Bone poking out of her leg, just like his. 

She bleeds, just like him.

And so, it ends. 

And so, it begins.

  
  


* * *

There are times when Tom is left with no choice but to kill her. And well, he finds those situations to be most unfavorable. 

  
  


Ginny forgets. More accurately, she chooses to forget. 

Tom finds her as Molly Prewett–the only part of her memory that lingered long enough to become her new identity. 

An ordinary citizen, with no recollection of their journey thus far, a result of a powerful memory charm onto herself before light transports from their last world to this one.

  
  
  


He makes sure that there is no trace of the pathetic facade she created. 

( He obliterates all those who knew her as the fake she chose to be, leaving her last.)

  
  


He hovers over her, wand in his hand. Crimson paints over his skin and clothes. She's shaking now, wand less. Staring out, petrified.

He frowns. 

Kneeling down, he grabs her face to meet her eyes. 

They're the same brown, but not hers. 

There is no recognition, only a blanket fear towards any stranger who just killed anyone she ever loved.

Tom decides on a reset.

  
  


* * *

Ginny finds herself in the frozen woods of the forbidden forest. The snow is thick, the air crisp and her layers are of little help to keep warm.

Well, at least where it would be. 

This universe is light years away from her origin.

Light years away from even the slightest resemblance to her life. There is no Ginny Weasley, the only daughter of Molly and Arthur, the youngest of seven and–

_Stop it,_ she tells herself as bright green eyes behind round glasses flash through her train of thought. 

  
  
As she settles down in her makeshift shelter, greedily closing in on the fire for even a sliver of warmth, Ginny turns to look at the small bundle wrapped tightly next to her.

  
  
A shiver runs down her spine, as dark eyes just stare and stare.

The temptation to smother him right then and there comes back. Or better yet, abandon him; his fate to be sealed by the weather or an animal on the hunt. 

Instead, she holds him.

* * *

A despicable loneliness. 

Probably the accurate description to her current predicament, though still an understatement. 

_Nothing could kill them._ _At least permanently._

It's only a matter of time before Tom catches up to her. 

_He always does._

And Ginny is beginning to lose her mind. 

Because between her many attempts to kill him to now kidnapping the infant version of him, she realizes she's playing the game too. 

And maybe, just maybe–

She's loving it too.

* * *


	2. Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello! It's definitely been a productive week with writing/editing so I was eager to post part 2.
> 
> I also updated the fic to be a 3 parter because the second chapter was getting too long and I wanted to space out the story properly. Be on the lookout for the conclusion/epilogue in the next few days
> 
> Please note that I did add some additional tags to the fic as it does get darker. 
> 
> With all of that said, enjoy part 2! <3

* * *

It takes a few cycles for Ginny to get the rules.

Any damage she does to him–well, it's self inflicting too. 

The vice versa , unfortunately, does not apply. 

It's a game of chess with just the last two opposite pieces. He, freely roaming as the queen. Her as any other piece, just desperate to stay even a few moves ahead. 

Sometimes, Ginny is destroyed first.

But always, _always_ –Tom gets tired of being the last piece on the board. 

A new game starts. 

* * *

What part of her gets left behind–she's always wondered about that. 

Of the many universes she's lived in, what part of her imprints on each one. 

Does she leave a corpse behind each time? 

(Did anyone check the chamber after to find two slashed and decaying corpses? Did anyone recognize her?)

Or is she just a memory left on the edge of reality and illusion?

Sometimes, she forgets past lives. She forgets the realities being ripped from her, the moment a dark-haired man seeks her out. 

Tom doesn't like that. Because Tom _never_ forgets.

* * *

Baby Tom doesn't eat. Hunger, Ginny concludes, is an in-universe phenomenon. And they both are ghouls passing by.

He doesn't do much of anything else either except grow and gurgle like any other baby. He's starting to crawl throughout the abandoned cabin she's fixed up for them.

Ginny watches.

For the first sign of a gleam in his eye just convincing enough to justify his end. For the first small cruelty he afflicts. 

Just a _reason,_ because she is compelled to prove that vileness is in Riddle's core without the help of the world around him. 

It is what he is. 

She waits.

* * *

Ginny lets him get close.

_Sometimes_ , according to Tom.

And maybe he's telling the truth, as her senses react to vivid images rushing to the forefront of her mind, scorching touches leaving untraceable burns ( but she feels them each time), a musky amber overwhelms her nostrils.

And maybe he lies but memory betrays her. She's pulled into bloody kisses and bite marks, her nails clawing into his back with the purpose of damaging them both because that is a condition of their deranged game. 

It's easy, to fuck him and wipe her hands of this dirty deed; excuse it as a combination of desperation, loneliness and a distraction –

But then he _looks_ at her.

Nothing indecipherable, which makes it all the more petrifying. 

It is transfixed and fervent, a hunger transgressing the bounds of their relationship.

Ginny’s lips tremble as the recollection of a hand caresses her face, long fingers brush against her cheeks. 

The epiphany kicks her hard.

Tom, it seems, is in love. (As close to love for a monster.)

And that chills her blood.

* * *

Forever is a long time to spend.

  
  


His past fixation with immortality is now paid off, though the _how_ part of the equation is still a mystery.

So now what? Well, so now who is the more accurate question.

  
  


Why her? There are countless others more powerful and more willing to be his tether til the end of time. 

She wants him dead. 

But he can’t help but want her.

* * *

  
“What kind of poison was it?”

It’s as casual as a recipe inquiry, but she's not surprised. 

Poison hurts the least, in her opinion. 

He drinks more from his cup, sitting across from her. 

Ginny is curled up on her small couch, the cold of her flat inching closer to her as she sips on her own cup. She stares out; the window in front of her exposes the light fall of snow.

“Nothing special, just rat poison. Didn’t have the time to think of anything else”, her tone just as cool. 

Any second, the effects will kick in. The nausea, the seizures, the blood. For now it’s a waiting game.

_( When did killing him come as naturally as breathing?)_

“Pity.”

She snorts. “You were expecting something more grandiose?”

“It loses appeal after the first 3 times, don’t you think?”

She shifts her gaze to him. His trademark amusement is affixed, but it is too bright and forced. 

  
  


Now this is new. No petty spats, no snarl, no anger. 

He’s swallowed it all, but there’s a trace of something else seeping from him. 

His hands start to shake and a few moments later, her own stomach clenches as the first wave of effects overtake her, to match his own pain. Ginny holds her stomach, her tea forgotten.

  
  


“Today is my birthday. “ 

The words fill the empty space in front of him. 

Something cuts through her guts and she is sure it isn’t the poison 

“Today is my birthday,” he confesses like it’s the darkest part of him.

Her nostrils flare. 

_“So what?”_ , she bites back with gritted teeth.

_(She wants the venom of her words to add to what she’s already fed him.)_

Dark eyes meet her own, as much as she wants to claw out of his gaze. There is too much of something new and hopeful, it disgusts her. The once fearful Dark Lord talking about birthdays like he was an actual human. The one time he is anything but, he talks and acts like one. 

She wants to _scream_ at him as blackness engulfs her vision and she falls and falls and –

“Remember. _Please._ "

* * *

The baby is walking now and Ginny makes use of what little magic she remembers to charm his clothes to fit. 

In between she cleans him, plays with him, the usual treatment for all kidnapped children.

She's playing house with Tom’s doppelganger and this fact breaks off a piece of her sanity and forces it's way back in her.

Maybe she can change him. Make him good. 

  
  


( _Make him kill himself._ )

Ginny shakes her head at the thought. 

  
  


( _Make him kill the other Tom._ )

Now there's an idea. 

After all, she's never found another him before. 

Surely it must be chaos. Having two of the same person exist in the same space. 

And maybe. Just maybe, older Tom didn't try to stop her from killing him in his infancy for that very reason. 

If she's wrong, well what's another cycle?

_But what if she's right though?_

No more Tom stalking her like prey. Perhaps she'll die too. Forever this time. 

  
  


"Now this," a voice behind her speaks, "is an exciting addition to our game isn't it?"


	3. Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this was much later than I anticipated mainly due to my own dissatisfaction of part 3. Then it got to be really long, then I deleted it all. And well, now i'm at around 790. 
> 
> which is very close to my original draft word count of this chapter. Funny how that works huh?
> 
> Anyway enough with my nonsensical obsession for word counts, here is the final part. thank you for the comments, kudos, the patience and support!

* * *

"Can't believe I was once like that." 

She crosses her arms, "A human being?"

Tom doesn't answer; his focus does not sway from his younger self walking the area of the small cabin.

Ginny catches a gleam of something sharp and fatal sticking from his coat pocket. 

_This round is coming to an end._

"Soon he will outgrow this place," says Tom.

  
  
"What makes you think I'll let him live that long?" 

"For the same reason you let me live this long." He sits himself at the small table. 

  
  


Ginny snorts. "Of course. That explains the multiple stabbings, poisonings, and shooting I've been inflicting on you since the bloody beginning. I let you live this long. For some reason."

  
  


He frowns. "If you're going to be rude about it, then I'd rather we just end this round now. "

He nods to the chair across from him.

  
  


She rolls her eyes. " _Fine_."

  
  


She doesn't look at him once she sits. The irony of who he is now is despicable; a tamed shell with no trace of the atrocities he once committed onto the world, to her family, to her.

  
  


Tom sighs, "Ginerva." 

  
  


_He pretends to forget that she hates him. No matter how many rounds are played, that will never change_.

  
  


The baby makes his way to her and tugs at the hem of her pants. Ginny pulls him up to sit on her lap.

  
  


Tom's stare narrows for a brief second. Ginny can’t help her amusement. 

  
  
_He just makes it too easy for her sometimes._

  
  


"Jealous over a baby? Even you should know better."

  
  


The taunt gets the reaction she was hoping for. The curl of his lip, eyes narrowed– it's _too_ good to be true. 

  
  


"As amusing as this is", he snarls, "let's get back on track, _shall_ we?"

  
  


Ginny ignores him, cooing at the toddler with a sudden abundance of affection pouring for it. 

  
  


"ENOUGH!" 

His hands slam onto the table, two sets of eyes looking at him.

  
  
  


Ginny smirks. "You were saying?"

* * *

_Tom is fixated. That much is true. The single notion that she is somewhere in between worlds is enough for him to chase._

_Beyond his control, beyond his will._

_In exchange for immortality, he unwillingly gained something else._

_An unending need for her._

_So he chases._

_In the hope that she chooses him._

_One day._

* * *

He gets quiet, too quiet for Ginny's liking. 

His head is lowered but she knows better than to dismiss it.

She tightens her hold on the baby. 

_Tom is plotting._

* * *

_'Remember. Please.'_

Ginny screams into the empty night. She bruises her skin, dives head first into a raging river.

  
  


_Anything. Please. Anything._

She begs nature to take her away, prays for any other monster to tear her to shreds.

She remembers.

  
  


She does, she does, she does. 

  
  


Ginny wanders, the chilled air cutting through her exposed skin.

  
  


_He gets close because she lets him._

_Because there is no other choice. Because there is no one else._

_Because there is no end._

  
  


She is stopped by rusted gates, a faded sign reading “Wool’s Orphanage”.

  
  
  
  
_Is there?_

* * *

“We can’t exist.”

Ginny’s eyes snap back to the man across the table. 

  
  


“He and I. Not at the same time, in the same space.” 

  
  
  
Ginny swallows. _He’s in her head, answering unvoiced questions._

  
  


“Okay.”

  
  


She expects him to make use of the weapon he has, swiftly slashing the throat of his younger self and her, if she happens to put up a fight. 

  
  
  
“Choose.”

* * *

Ginny blinks. 

  
  
“What?”

  
  
“Choose.” His eyes do not leave her, but she catches just the slightest falter in his voice and it finally hits her.

  
  
  


He’s _begging_.

  
  


_For what?_

  
  


“There can only be one of me.”

  
  
“You’re repeating yourself”, she states slowly. 

  
  


Tom’s jaw clenches, but he still makes no move to take matters into his own hands.

  
  
He _needs_ her to choose. 

  
  
  


Because either way, it’s still _him_ isn’t it? 

  
  


One way or another, she will still choose him, even if it isn’t much of a choice. 

One way or another, the game goes on. 

One way or another, they will always be Tom and Ginny. 

* * *

She says nothing as she gently pushes off the creature from her lap, nudging him away from her. 

Towards the man. 

The little creature laughs, playing a game of his own, waddling his way to his adult form and his hands outstretched. 

* * *

“I won’t.”

  
  


_He wears heartbreak and fear so well._

  
  
Her expression is blank, but she studies the man across from her. 

Memorizing him for the last time. 

  
  


“Ginny.” 

  
  


_‘Remember. Please.’_

  
  


At the sound of her name from his lips, she’s tempted, oh so tempted. 

  
  


To play again, their game of too many yet too little consequences. 

  
  


Her fingers curl up in her lap.

  
  


“Goodbye Tom.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> love it? hate it? let me know!


End file.
